


The Fire in his Eyes

by AsmodeusXander



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: But he's too innocent to recognize it, Gen, M/M, Newt has a crush on Graves, Old photos, Young Percival Graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24192160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsmodeusXander/pseuds/AsmodeusXander
Summary: ... It was so beautiful. There was nothing but glee and fun irradiating from the photograph. Newt was still petrified in the corridor, face flushed, his eyes suspiciously shiny and the strangest feeling of yearn lodged in his chest. Why?ORAn old photo from Percival's school days falls into Newt's hands.
Relationships: Original Percival Graves/Newt Scamander
Comments: 5
Kudos: 127





	The Fire in his Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Now, this is veeeery short and there's a lot of things I wanted to try with this concept, but... I will have to see if I'm doing it properly. Then I will decide whether I give it continuation or not. 
> 
> I owe a lot to my friend [Zailocked ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zailocked/pseuds/Zailocked). She did the beta work in this, even though she's not even in the fandom, as I wouldn't have dared to publish it otherwise. Still, any mistake you find, it's entirely my fault and I'd love to know so I can fix it. 
> 
> Zai, if you read this... I love you, you're awesome :c <3

Waiting for Tina to finish her job at MACUSA was always very uncomfortable to Newt. Even after being absolved from all charges and responsibility for all the New York fiasco, almost two years later, he seemed to unintentionally draw attention to himself every time he came to Woolworth’s building. Newt attributed it to the New York magic press's insistence on putting him on the front pages on more than one occasion. First as the alleged responsible of the entire ruckus caused by the Obscurus, then as an unexpected “hero” for unveiling the Grindelwald farce and leading to his capture, not long after when the real Percival Graves was discovered in his family mausoleum under a stasis charm, mangled and emaciated, reviving interest in the story of how Newt had been the only one to discover that he had been replaced, and finally, with a much more welcomed merit, when his book was published and became a bestseller. Whatever, Newt didn’t like people looking at him too much… whispering and smiling at each other.

So Newt tried to make himself look as inconspicuous as possible, even changed his usual garish blue coat for a grey one for his visits, stayed in a seat near Tina’s desk while she was down in the evidence lockers, culminating the last details of the arrangement that would allow him to keep a Brazilian boyuna egg. Hunched over himself and playing with a soft little feather he found clinging to his coat, Newt guessed it was from one of the Occamy, judging by the beautiful iridescent shine going from bluish to pinkish when the light beamed over it. They had made a fuss that morning, excited and happy when he fed them all the roaches he captured in his dingy hotel room, before he could contact Tina to let her know he had arrived to New York.

After a while it seemed to work, since some of the weight of sideways glances lifted from him and everyone went back to focus on their work. Newt had been but a brief distraction, he knew all MACUSA was on edge, dealing with the upcoming transfer of Grindelwald to Europe. Newt didn’t know how things worked on that matter, but it seemed that the floo network and portkeys weren’t a plausible option for doing it and the alternatives were prone to sabotage.

Just a couple of minutes later Newt’s thoughts were interrupted by a series of “good afternoon, Director”, and “afternoon, boss” echoing through the department, following the aforementioned man towards his office.

Newt looked up swiftly, catching the sight of Director Percival Graves strutting fast and barely minding anything around him. After months of recovery, he was almost what he used to be before his kidnaping, at least in appearance. He walked very straight, with hardened mahogany eyes and thin lips, immaculate dressing and perfect hair. And still, there was a shadow of something in his countenance that made Newt’s chest clench, a certain something in the dark of his pupils overshadowing his dashing looks.

Newts blinked a couple of times, reprimanding himself for getting a bit too… poetic about his scrutiny.

Whatever, Graves was probably too busy, judging by the intimidating amount of folders and manila envelopes under his arms and his more than usual stern scowl. From among all the files and papers, one slim envelope slipped and fell to the floor making no noticeable sound. Graves kept walking, and Newt stayed lost in vague and inconvenient thoughts until the man disappeared behind his office door. Only then Newt’s gaze dropped and saw the brownish letter envelope and went for it immediately, though slightly cautious.

The moment Newt tried to pick it up, however, he discovered the envelope was already torn open as a couple of paper sheets and a photograph fell back to the floor. He got them back quickly, pushing the big folded pieces of paper in first. Respectful of the Director’s privacy, he tried to do the same with the picture, but the moment his eyes caught a little glimpse, he stopped cold.

The magizoologist froze, eyes glued to the paper. There were five teenagers, between sixteen and eighteen years old, maybe, all posing in a big hall under a sign that read “American Inter School Dueling Tournament 1902”. They were using different robes, but all seemed like school uniforms in style. Newt wasn’t well acquainted with any other wizarding schools besides Hogwarts, knowing the name of Durmstrang and Beauxbeatons, an approximate of their location, but he didn’t know the uniforms of those two. Queenie had alluded Ilvermorny once, she chanted a nice school song that put Hogwarts one to shame (so of course he didn't even mention it), but then again, nothing about uniforms. 

Yet, Newt knew immediately which uniform belonged to Ilvermorny, as it was very classy and just… befitting. Not that it mattered, as the magizoologist attention focused immediately on the boy at the centre of the picture when he recognized him. He was in the middle of other four and was the only one hugging a big trophy instead of a medal.

Graves. The boy was Graves. Decades younger, but Newt could never have mistaken him for someone else. His unfairly handsome features were there, but free from any age and stress creases. The only remarkable lines were those of his smiling lips and his sultry eyes, and Newt knew right away what was missing from Percival's pupils of today. Young Graves was smiling, trying to remain composed and apparently restrain a wolfish grin from becoming too wide for the shot. His elation still, leaking into his looks, into his dark and fierce eyes. He emanated so, so much emotion. Newt felt it even through the paper, the ages, the space and time. He sensed the boy’s satisfaction, how pleased he was with himself. Merlin, Newt _felt_ infected with that same pride and joy just seeing him. 

Young Graves had long hair, which for some reason surprised Newt a lot. It gave the Director a more rebel look, too averse to his current style. It was smoothly combed backwards, at shoulders length. It looked too good on him. Newt couldn't help but wonder if Graves had had a "rebellious phase". Was there ever a time when the reputable and law-abiding man had been more... rowdy or anarchic? Nowadays, it seemed impossible. But the fire in that young man's eyes did not seem to belong to someone as punctilious as Director Graves. Honorable? Righteous? Yes. But not formal or bookish at all.

There was a short girl with similar robes right next to Graves, pushing him playfully in the arm every twenty seconds or so. She had a medal with a large number 2 engraved. Every time she did it, Graves smiled slightly wider and pushed back, without force behind it. The girl laughed and pouted.

It was so beautiful. There was nothing but glee and fun irradiating from the photograph. Newt was still petrified in the corridor, face flushed, his eyes suspiciously shiny and the strangest feeling of yearn lodged in his chest. Why?

“Newt? Hi, darling! What is it, ho…?” Queenie’s voice was not enough to yank him out of his reverie immediately, but then she was beside him with impossibly wide eyes, bracing his arm at the same time she took a peek of the photo, gasping. “Oh… my… god… Is… Is that Graves?”

Startled, Newt reacted, looking at Queenie’s open-mouthed and furiously ablaze face.

“T-This… he just, he dropped it and I… I should…”

“Mercy Lewis and all the holy and beautiful things in the world. Oh my… Oh,” Queenie dumbstruck expression just made worse the feeling of fire in his cheeks. He was caught between the desire of looking at the picture again and worshiping it with her, and hiding it as a dirty secret and a precious dragon treasure. The only reasonable part of him, though, was preoccupied. He was invading the Director’s privacy! It was bad enough that he had seen it, but he shouldn’t be allowing others to do it too!

“Queenie…” Newt allowed the more reasonable part of his mind talk, while he tried to shove the photo in the envelope, but right then, Tina’s voice interrupted and Queenie snatched the photo away carefully, as Newt wasn’t grasping it too tightly because he didn’t want to crumple it.

“Queenie?”  
  
  


“Tina, oh my god… please, please, look at this,” Queenie handed the photo to Tina before Newt could get it back and the man groaned.

“Queenie! Please! I have to give it back before he notices we have it!”

“What is it? Who is going to-?” Tina stopped talking too, her eyebrows flying all the way up to her hairline as she scanned the picture. “Oh, that’s… that’s the Director, right? How-? How did you-?”

It was clear she wanted to ask how the photo ended in his hands, but still, little smiles and surprised looks kept going back to the image and forgetting everything else. Queenie kept bouncing slightly next to her sister, finally searching for more details on the photo, besides than young Graves.

“Tina, let me give it back! I don’t think he would like us to see this,” Newt tried, suffocating a misplaced feeling of jealousy. _Don’t feel like that, it’s absolutely wrong and weird. You barely know him. He barely looks your way._ Surely Tina would understand, since she was always more scrupulous.

He was very nervous, and actually started looking over his shoulder to Grave’s office door and other Aurors’ cubicles, hoping no one came this way. The place was almost empty, fortunately everyone was out on raids and meetings.

“Where did you get this?” Tina asked, looking him suspiciously.

“He dropped it! And I need to give it back! I hope he doesn’t get mad at me…” Newt turned again to face her, arching his eyebrows in anguish and reaching out to take the photo. This time Tina allowed it, but she kept regarding him with a strange concern. Queenie on the other hand seemed elated, wiggling her delicate eyebrows to him, making him blush harder even though he didn’t understand why.

“You sure you want to give it back? That picture is worth the weight of an erumpent in gold,” Queenie played, giving little steps to him, trying to snoop another glance to the picture, playfully. Newt braced the paper to his chest, pressing his lips and trying to look convincingly admonishing. 

“It’s very impressive; I participated in that tournament once, in my fourth year in Ilvermorny. But I ended in fifth place. A Castellobruxo girl won,” Tina mentioned, sticking her hands in her pockets, fighting her own blush and trying to avoid the real deal with the photo. “You really should go and give it back to the Director. It's better if we pretend we didn't see anything. Just like you said, I don't think he would like us to see it and I like my body parts were they are right now.”

“What? But, uh, oh…” Queenie finally subsided under the stern look of her sister, pouting puckishly and stomping absently. Newt sighed, letting his shoulders fall in mild relief and smiled to the girls, pushing the photography inside its envelope.

“I’m going, we can go home and talk about the boyuna once I’m back…” the magizoologist said, turning to Graves' office, walking fast.

Queenie and Tina stared for five long seconds before turning swiftly around too, looking at each other with wide smiles.

“Mercy Lewis, Tina! We should be ashamed! Such dirty, diiiiirty thoughts!” Queenie giggled, both pacing to Tina’s desk to collect their things. “And Newt’s ones were so, sooooo sweet. We’re such libertines! I hope nothing of us rubs on him. Or maybe it should, can’t be bad once in a while.”

“Oh please shut up, Queenie! I don’t want to have _that_ kind of images of my boss in my head! Not if I have to look him in the eye for the rest of my career. But damn it,” Tina blushed harder, pushing her belongings inside her briefcase.

“I wonder if Madam President has some other photos of him in those years. They went together for at least four years, right? They were friends or something. She owes me a favour, you know?” Queenie mused, tilting her head.

“She ow-? What?! How?! Queenie!!!”

………

Newt had to knock the door at least five times before getting any answer and he knew it was only out of the Director’s desire to stop the insistent sound, judging by the sharp tone.

“Come in!”

Newt obeyed, remaining close to the door, sheepish. “Good afternoon, Mr Graves.”

“Mr Scamander, it’s… nice to see you. How can I help you?” The austere Director greeted back, fixing his eyes on him, bemused. It wasn’t so common of Newt to reach out to anyone but the Goldstein sisters. And even if the initial discomfort of their first encounters had been overcome –including when they were introduced, Graves trying not to ruin the magizoologist's second-first impression of him–, Newt always seemed all jumpy and shrunken around him, which Graves hated. Sera insisted it had nothing to do with _that_ , apparently he just had that effect on everyone. As if that were any better.

Newt immediately regretted going so soon to face the Director, feeling still quite embarrassed. Looking at him just made him remember the boy in the photo, his younger version. It wasn’t like this Graves was less gorgeous, even without the dark mane. Newt liked the greying sideburns and distinguished undercut too. The eyes where the same too, even if today’s Graves lacked the… shine. Newt wondered if the Director could smile just like his younger self. He had never seen him smile, except for some small, polite twist of pressed lips whenever they meet. Not like the devilish and almost lofty smile in the Duelling champion’s mouth. To think that he might never see that smile again... 

“Mr Scamander?” Director Graves repeated, a little worried this time at the absent-minded look in Newt’s face.

“Oh, umh, I’m so sorry. I just… you dropped this in the corridor, Mr…” Newt went to the desk and offered the envelope, trying to smile good-naturedly. Graves scowled softly and took the paper, examining it before recognition hit him and made him open his eyes wider for a second. “A-And please, call me Newt. Mr Scamander sounds just too weird. Much more my brother’s thing.”

Newt was already feeling bad about returning the letter. He thought he had missed the chance to see it one last time, to record the image in more detail in his mind before giving it up forever. Now it was absolutely certain that he would never see it again, and that hurt more than it should. 

“Thank you, Newt,” Graves said gently, putting the envelope on the desk, in a small space with no files and other papers, and instead, looked very pointedly at the auburn haired man. It almost made him apologize the way Scamander reacted after a couple of seconds, squirming and arching his eyebrows. Percival didn't know if he should be feeling bad, as it looked like he was making the poor man uncomfortable, but the magizoologist looked quite... adorable like that. At least it didn't seem like Scamander was afraid of him, if the blush was any indication.

“You’re welcome, Mr Graves. W-What?...”

“It’s nothing. And you can call me Percival, if you’re comfortable with it,” the Director answered, trying to make the other feel more at ease. He fixed his eyes on Newt’s and, to the man’s apparent surprise, he let a little honest smile slip to his lips. Newt saw it then, barely a glimmer in Graves pupils, but it was _there_ …

The boy.

Newt smiled back, glowing, before saying goodbye and leaving the office. Graves stayed put until the door closed, heaving a sigh and covering his mouth with a hand while the other reached again for the envelope. At least he had managed to make the other smile, instead of shrinking and retreating. 

“Damn it, Anette. I hope no one else saw it...” he grumbled while taking the photo out, flipping it and reading the charmed ink behind the picture.

_One spark is enough to revive a fire. Find one inside you and shine again, you bastard._

_Love, Always-2 nd-place._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! If you want this to continue or have some ideas about _how_ would you like this thing to continue, let me know! 
> 
> The little bit about Sera and Queenie is my first option right now. And I have another idea, but it's pretty vague right now. 
> 
> Oh, and... all this was actually inspired by [this photo.](https://i.imgur.com/cpX4nFR.png/)


End file.
